Not His Type
by Hc-Svnt-Dracones
Summary: Brittany and Kurt spend some time together after glee club. Mentions of Brittany/Santana and Brittany/Matt. SPOILERS FROM THE PROMO FOR 1x18 LARYNGITIS.


Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

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Kurt's dressed weird today. Not his regular kind of weird, either. He's dressed weird in what everyone else wears for normal. Which is too bad, because Brittany likes his fuzzy sweaters and his black turtlenecks and his bow ties. She even likes his silly hats. Even though hats are not in dress code. Nobody ever tells him to take them off, though, so she figures it's not important. There's a hat today, too, but it's a plain one. The kind of hat Puck or Finn might wear. Brittany notices it in history, when Kurt leans across the desk and quietly tells her that her name has two Ts in it and only one N. She's glad someone was paying attention. It's a little embarrassing when the teacher has to correct that.

In glee, there's a new guy in the room. Not the one who looked like Mr. Schue. A different one. A sexy, ripped one with a buzz cut. She says hi to him and he smiles and says hi back. Somehow he knows her name without being told. When he asks her how she's been it's like they've known each other their whole lives and she can't help giggling and blushing as she goes and sits with Santana. Santana scoffs, though, and tells her _it's just Puck, B_. And then Brittany really wishes she'd skipped math like she'd considered doing so she could make Santana laugh with a mean-ish comment about Kurt's weird clothes. It takes a lot of work to purposefully think of something that will make Santana laugh. Sometimes Brittany spends most of her day trying, because when Santana's face lights up and she doubles over and she tries to hide the fact that she snorts when she laughs, Brittany feels like she's just won a hundred trophies with the Cheerios. Of course, she went to math today and even paid attention, because algebra is _hard_, so she doesn't have anything funny to say. Instead, she tries to be quiet and only opens her mouth to sing.

Santana puts out her pinky to link with when they're leaving the room, but Kurt grabs Brittany first, putting his elbow through hers and pulling her in the opposite direction. Mercedes shakes her head, but she doesn't say anything. Brittany wonders if she'll take Santana's pinky, because _someone_ has to.

"Brittany," Kurt says, as they walk toward the parking lot. It occurs to her that she won't get to stop by the bathroom on the way out to change out of her costume. Everyone else did earlier. Well, at least it's pretty.

"Hi, Kurt," she says, smiling, "Are you doing laundry today?"

"What? No," he frowns at her, but she doesn't think he's really mad, "Brit, would you like to come over to my house today?"

"Okay. Is Tina coming, too?"

"No." He takes a deep breath and shifts from having his elbow through hers to holding her hand. She doesn't usually hold hands with friends, she thinks vaguely, "No… it'll be more like… like a date,"

"Can we have pizza?"

"Sure," he sounds confused and she wonders for a moment if she'll have to explain what pizza is. She's just about to when he distracts her by shifting from holding her hand like they're buddies on a school trip to doing it in that kind of uncomfortable way where it's her finger, his finger, her finger intertwined.

"Okay then. Sounds like fun,"

Kurt's car is really big. She's sure the speakers are awesome, but he seems really, really crazy right now and she's not sure she wants to risk turning on the radio and scaring him into swerving off the road. _That_ could be funny for Santana, if she figured out a good way to say it.

When they get to Kurt's house, he grabs her hand again in that slightly too tight, too stretched way and walks up to his door. It's locked and it takes him a long time to get the keys right.

Then they're inside.

"Your house is really nice," Brittany says, kindly,

"You've been here before," he points out. He's still holding her hand, and it's kind of strange. She doesn't know why he's doing it.

"I know."

"Do you want anything?" he asks then, awkwardly, and she shakes her head.

"We could watch a movie," she suggests. He seems to think that sounds okay, so they go downstairs and she starts to look through his DVDs. He has a lot of her favorites; _Moulin Rouge_ and _Rent_ and _Dreamgirls_ and _Hairspray_ and _Mama Mia_, but whenever she holds one up, he shakes his head no. She can't think why he has all those movies if he doesn't like them.

"We could do something else," he says. She thinks maybe he's trying to make his voice sound a little lower. He just sounds nervous.

"Okay. Like what?"

Then he kisses her. His mouth is shut tight and his eyes are still open and she's taller than him in her heels, so it's kind of awkward. This isn't at all the sort of thing she'd expect to be doing with Kurt Hummel on a Tuesday afternoon. When he pulls away, he gasps like he'd been holding his breath the whole time their lips were smooshed together. His face is bright red.

"Oh," she says,

"Oh?" he repeats.

"Oh." She confirms.

Then she kisses him. This time, she gets his mouth to open and even though his eyes are still wide and she can feel how hot he's blushing she thinks this could be okay. She loves kissing.

She pushes him forward, toward the bed and he's got his hands on her shoulders, like he doesn't know where to put them or what to do. It occurs to her that he's probably never done this before, so she pushes him onto the bed and sits on his lap, rather than the other way round. Kurt pulls away a lot and never really does anything without her prompting him (Put your hand here. It's okay; it's just a boob. Move your tongue a little. Here, do this. This feels really nice.) and he never closes his eyes all the way, never relaxes into it. Whenever she does something like put her hands on his chest or in his hair, he flinches a little bit, tries to get her hands off of him. Sometimes he even pushes them away. But he doesn't tell her to stop. And he doesn't get up or walk away. It's really weird and Brittany doesn't know what to think, so she just doesn't.

Then Mr. Hummel opens the door to the room and just stands there, staring. Kurt's face gets even redder. He looks like a dying fish on the deck of a boat. A blushing, dying fish.

"Well… use protection," Mr. Hummel says. He looks almost as embarrassed as Kurt does. Then he leaves.

Kurt gets up then. He's hugging his arms and facing away from Brittany. He doesn't say anything.

"Does he mean like a burglar alarm?" she asks. He doesn't answer her. After a minute, he turns and sits next to her on the bed. He's looking at his feet, but there's nothing there.

"I don't know why I did that," he says. He's really quiet and his voice is regular again. All high and soft.

"Kissing's nice," Brittany shrugs. He doesn't say anything.

"That was my first kiss," he mumbles, mostly to himself, sounding miserable, "I just wasted my first kiss,"

Brittany shrugs again.

"It could be worse." She says, "You could've made out with Rachel Berry's cousin at her Bat Mitzvah and you could've been kinda drunk for the first time ever and you could have totally forgotten his name and he could've been from, like, Chicago or Zimbabwe or something, and you could've never seen him again." Kurt laughs softly. He still seems sad, but Brittany's really glad she made him laugh that tiny half-hearted laugh.

"The first time I got drunk," he murmurs, "I threw up on Ms. Pillsbury,"

Brittany nods in a _these things happen _kind of way.

"You wanna know something?" she asks after a long moment of silence.

"What?"

"I think I like kissing girls better than kissing boys,"

"Really?"

"Mmmhm. Girls taste better. And their lips are softer. And they smell nicer. Plus Santana's a girl and she's my favorite person to kiss, ever." She looks at Kurt, head tilted slightly to the side, "And when you're kissing a girl, you don't have to worry about getting poked with anybody's boner. Which is gross." He laughs a little harder this time. It's like he's training, trying to laugh a little better each time. Like when Santana runs and has to be faster and better each day. Brittany doesn't know why, but it matters to Santana so she doesn't ask. She just waits until Santana is home and panting and tired and sweaty and then they can hang out and Santana won't even complain about how fat she is when Brittany kisses her stomach or her thighs. "Kissing you's a little like kissing a girl," she says then. His jaw clenches.

"I'm a _guy_," he grinds out.

"I know. But you're clean. And you smell good. And your teeth are brushed. And you didn't poke me _or_ try to take my clothes off. You didn't even pinch my nipples like Matt always does," She looks at him and he looks at his knees. She thinks he's going to say something, but he never does. "More guys should be like you, I think," she tells him then, quietly. She puts a hand on his knee and he leans into it, closing his eyes and sighing shakily and leaning his head on her shoulder. They sit like that for a long, long time. Eventually, he takes off the baseball cap.

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Thanks for reading! Please leave me a review if you have any thoughts about the story. I'd love to get some feedback.


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